


Social Currency

by kaci3PO



Category: Grey's Anatomy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bisexual Character, F/M, M/M, POV Bisexual Character, Rentboys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-09
Updated: 2012-02-09
Packaged: 2017-10-30 21:14:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/336229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaci3PO/pseuds/kaci3PO
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Of all the various aspects of his job, the actual sex part is usually the least interesting. Or: rentboy!AU in which Alex works as a prostitute to get himself through med school.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Social Currency

"So," Cristina says as she relaxes back onto Alex's bed. It's too small for the both of them to be comfortable, even sitting sideways, but his dorm is tiny and there's nowhere else to sit. Neither of them particularly enjoy physical proximity to other people outside of sex, but it's a compromise they've made for the sake of their friendship.

"So?" Alex replies. He smirks at the floor, already knowing what she wants to ask, but far be it from him to deprive her of one of the only non-surgical things she ever expresses any real interest in.

"Tell me about it!" she says, punching him on the arm. "Guy? Girl? What was wrong with them? What'd they want you to do?"

"Guy," he answers, because it's almost always a guy. He gets the occasional girl, but not even close to regularly.

"And? What was wrong with him? Did he have a third nipple? Was he horribly deformed?" She pauses and screws up her nose, "Erectile dysfunction?"

"Socially awkward virgin."

"Really?"

Alex shrugs. "He'd fucked a girl before, but he was trying to figure out if he was bi or not. Wanted to actually try it before he went after some guy he knew from class."

"That's it? Just a sad little bisexual with a crush?"

Alex snorts. "You'd be surprised at how many of my tricks are just sad little bisexuals with crushes."

"Was he at least _pathologically_ awkward?"

Alex shrugs. "He reminded me of a puppy with floppy hair."

She sighs. "This guy sounds boring. He better have at least been a good lay."

"Not bad," Alex says fairly, because the guy wasn't the best Alex has ever had, but for someone who'd never been fucked before, he wasn't terrible.

She groans. "I came over to hear about a boring bisexual of questionable sexual prowess? I've been cheated."

"You came over to get your ass kicked on my new Playstation," Alex answers, shoving a controller into her hand.

Cristina isn't exactly the kind of girl to express gratitude in any way that Alex can measure, nor is she the type to get excited in anything other than an ironic sense, but he can see a little flicker of joy in her eyes as she takes the controller from him.

"I take it back," she says after a moment. "Bisexual virgins of questionable sexual prowess are awesome."

"Couldn't keep you in violent video games and pizza if they weren't," Alex agrees. "Speaking of which, it'll be here in twenty. Now burn, mother fucker."

"No fair!" she exclaims, jabbing her thumbs into the controller repeatedly.

They're still beating the digital shit out of each other when the pizza arrives.

***

The whoring thing, it's more of a necessity than anything else, but for the most part, he enjoys it. He didn't at first—was just in it for the money and didn't really care about the people parting with their hard earned cash for the chance to get in his pants—but he learned pretty quick that not caring was the perfect way to alienate all his clients while simultaneously failing to fulfill every single one of their needs.

So he cares now. Not enough to be invested, but enough to actually talk to them and find out what they want and how to make them feel better. He even has a specialty. In certain circles, he's known as the best first time money can buy in the greater Seattle area.

Cristina finding out was more to do with her being too damn clever for his own good than anything else. One too many nights out combined with sudden surges of cash and strict adherence to a routine of visits to the free clinic for screenings added up in her brilliant brain and he found himself cornered in his own dorm room while she laid into him for not telling her. Since then, she's been his favorite way to vent about the horror show that his job can be sometimes.

He's pretty sure she wouldn't care about his sex life if it were actually his own; the sheer number of bizarre things he's been asked to do, the weird people he's been paid to have sex with, and the continuous parade of abnormal bodies he's serviced entertain her more than the actual sex does.

Which is fine with Alex, really, because of all the various aspects of his job, the actual sex part is usually the least interesting.

***

His favorite client is an undergrad who told him her name was June. While he's pretty sure most of his clients tell him their real names due to the whole mutual ruination if he ever breathed a word of it thing, the twitchy, nervous ones like June usually don't, so he suspects it's a fake. At any rate, June doesn't actually pay him for sex. Several of his clients don't; they just want to talk, or want to engage in something that's sexual for them but not very many other people. Alex met a guy once who paid him to continuously pop balloons while the guy jerked off. Easiest $250 he's ever made.

In June's case, she pays him to teach.

At twenty-one, June claims to be dating her first serious boyfriend and somehow or other, she's managed to hang onto him for over a year without actually sleeping with the guy. Alex would feel bad for him if he could work up the energy to care, but maintaining that level of interest is really asking too much; sometimes he can barely hold it for his actual clients. At any rate, June finally thinks she's ready to sleep with him but knows he's had sex before meeting her.

"I just want to be good," she'd told Alex eagerly. "I don't want to disappoint him."

The first few appointments, Alex had made a cursory effort to tell her that he was sure her boyfriend wouldn't be disappointed, and that he's sure they'll be great together, but by the fifth appointment, he's tired of trying to convince her and she's tired of being convinced.

"I thought," she says shyly, "that you could use a—a—"

She makes a crude gesture with her hand that takes him a minute to parse out as "dildo."

"You want me to toy-fuck you?"

She blushes. "I thought—I thought that way, I could learn how to...to be penetrated but I'd still be a virgin."

The thing about June is, Alex can't quite figure out what's wrong with her. There's always _something_ wrong with his clients, some body defect they're ashamed of or some personality flaw that makes it impossible for them to just go pick someone up at a bar like he does on his days off. But with June, he can't figure out why she's here when she could be learning this stuff with her boyfriend, who sounds like a real catch by all qualities he can measure. She's pretty enough, and she frequently makes him laugh, and yet for whatever reason, she's a stuttering twenty-one year old virgin who comes to him for sex lessons instead of Jay.

(Alex has never figured out if the boyfriend is named "Jay" or if "J" is his initial, but she talks about him enough for Alex to need to apply a name to the mental picture she paints.)

"If that's what you want," he tells her, and grins. "Do you want to take your skirt off, or should I undo the zipper with my teeth?"

She blushes again, which is exactly why he asked. He figured out after about the third time she booked an appointment that there's a tiny part of her that enjoys a little embarrassing forwardness, and he's been using it to his advantage ever since.

"I'll—I'll do it," she answers. "You just—just get the...get ready."

By the time he finishes taking the dildo, condom, and lube out of his bag, June is lying on her bed, naked from the waist down, and making soft little noises in the back of her throat. He would be concerned about that if they didn't sound excited and turned on, and sure enough, he finds her already wet when he kneels between her legs.

"Just...go slow?" she asks.

Twenty minutes later, she's gasping, "Faster, faster," and Alex is pretty sure this is going to be June's last booking.

***

Mark's an interesting client because not only does he not pay Alex for sex, he doesn't even pay Alex for either of them taking their clothes off. It happens from time to time, that he'll get a client who hires him for his body and then ends up just sitting around and telling him their problems, but Mark never even intended to get off.

Mark is one of those rare people who hires themselves a hooker just so they can talk to someone who won't judge them.

"She's just so...spunky," Mark says, and takes another swig of his beer. Alex has been watching him to make sure that he doesn't get unreasonable levels of drunk for a variety of reasons—the first and foremost of which is that Alex doesn't have a pimp or whatever so security's up to him. Mark's big enough that letting him get drunk is not a good idea.

"Who is?" Alex asks. "What's her name? Tell me about her."

"Lexie." He says her name reverently, enough to let Alex know that whoever she is, the drunk misery isn't just for show.

"Lexie," Alex repeats, though with far less emotion. "And she's spunky. What else?"

"She's my student," Mark sighs. "Or—not mine. I mean, I'm just a TA. I'm in med school and she's pre-med and that means she's off limits."

"But you like her," Alex supplies.

"I love her. And—and I can't fucking _tell_ anyone because my best friend hates me."

"Why's that?"

"Fucked his wife," Mark says, waving his hand idly. "It's...it's a thing I do when everything's fucked up, which it _is_ , because I can't fucking have _Lexie_ , who I _love_."

"You fucked his wife? Kind of a dick move."

Mark snorts and points his beer bottle at Alex. "This is why I came to you."

"Happy to be of service. So you fucked your best friend's wife because you're in love with your student. Have you tried actually telling Lexie any of this?"

Mark sighs. "She knows I want her. Hell, she cornered me after class one day and straddled my lap. She wants it. But we can't and even if we could, I'm not interested in being her hot for teacher fantasy."

"Because you're in love with her."

"Pretty much." Mark finishes off the last of his beer and lets it dangle between two of his fingers. "Am I like, the most pathetic trick you've ever had, or what?"

"Technically, you're not a trick," Alex says amiably. "You're a psych patient."

Mark lolls his head from side to side. "If you were me, what would you do?"

"Semester's over in two months," Alex says with a shrug. "Wait it out, then ask her on a date and make it clear that you aren't going to be her human sex toy."

"That sounds so _reasonable_."

"Yeah, you get good at this sort of shit after a couple of years of being a whore."

"Don't call yourself a whore, man. You're—you're like. Like a _bro_."

"A bro who gets paid to give other people orgasms," Alex says agreeably. "Or in this case, listen to you talk about how you can't have one with your hot pre-med student."

"Come on, you act like you've never wanted someone you couldn't have."

Alex doesn't answer that with the actual truth, because he's never honest with clients if he can help it.

"I'm around people who do enough to get the gist."

Mark sighs and drops his head back against the wall.

"I have you for the rest of the hour, don't I?"

Alex smirks. "Yeah, why? You gonna use me for my intended purpose?"

He reaches for the hem of his shirt, but Mark puts out a hand to stop him.

"No, just...can we just sit for awhile? Will you just have a beer with me?"

Alex doesn't usually drink with clients for all the obvious reasons, but he nods.

"Yeah," he says, and slides down into place against the wall beside Mark. "So tell me more about Lexie."

Mark beams at him and Alex is fairly sure this is a job well done.

***

Alex goes to the free clinic a lot, primarily because he gets checked for STDs once a month, but visiting has the fringe benefit of seeing Izzie. Tall, blonde, and way too self-righteous for her own good, Izzie is the closest thing Alex thinks he will ever come to being in love. He's not even sure he believes in love, which is partly because of his job but mostly because of his parents and that whole vicious clusterfuck from when he was a kid, but if love exists, then Izzie's the closest he's ever going to get.

This is somewhat deterred by the fact that Izzie knows about and disapproves of how he makes his money and also the minor detail that she is actually already married.

That last bit doesn't seem like as big of an obstacle as it should, but given the number of married clients Alex has, it's mostly insignificant. Far more important is the way Izzie smiles at him, or the way she's always telling him that he's better than this. Alex doesn't appreciate her not-so-subtle jabs at his profession because he loves his job and he's damn good at it, and anyway, it's just how he's paying the bills until he can get through med school. But he appreciates the fact that she thinks he's good, and the way she looks at him sometimes when she thinks he's not paying attention.

He's never even kissed her. It's a problem.

"Already?" she says when she sees him walk in.

"Been a month." Alex shrugs and starts rolling up his sleeve. "I like to stay on top of things. Last time I missed a month I—"

"Got syphilis. Yeah, I remember." She gives a delicate shudder and asks, "Have you quit yet?"

"Would I be here if I had?"

She sighs. "There are other ways to make money than by degrading your body."

"I don't have any more sex now than I would if I weren't getting paid for it," Alex retorts back honestly. He might be a little choosier about _who_ he went home with if he weren't getting paid, but that's quality, not quantity. He doesn't have to take on a lot of clients thanks to his wrestling scholarship, so he gets to be picky with his tricks and how many he accepts.

She looks like she wants to mutter something rude under her breath, but she holds her tongue and slides the needle into his arm instead.

"How's the husband?" he asks. "Still looking for that heart transplant?"

It's rude, he knows, because Izzie doesn't like to talk about it. It's a sensitive subject and Alex is still trying to piece the whole thing together but he _thinks_ she may have gotten fired from her last job because of it. Bringing it up is kind of a dick move, but he doesn't really feel bad about it considering how she's more than happy to belittle him for being a prostitute.

She makes a face. "You're done here. Contact information still the same for your test results?"

He nods and she makes a dismissive gesture. It bothers him more than he thinks it should when she turns around and walks off without even saying goodbye.

***

The bisexual former virgin of questionable sexual prowess, also known as George, books a second appointment three weeks after the first. It's only notable because Alex doesn't usually get follow up appointments from guys who just want to try it with a dude. Either they decide they don't like it, or they decide they do and then they actually go find themselves a real boy to bring back home to mom. Repeat visits are rare and Alex can't think of a single thing from their last appointment that would cause George to want to come back.

"I'm _Catholic_!" George hisses when Alex arrives at his apartment.

Oh, well, that'll do it then.

"So I'm taking it that you're having trouble dealing with the whole being into guys thing?"

" _I'm_ not," George explains, "but I have two bothers. And a dad! And a _mother_! All of whom are very, _very_ Catholic."

"That must suck," he says warily, because he hasn't figured out what George's intentions are yet.

"I asked out the guy from my chem class," George says, which feels like a change of topic until he says, "and he told me he doesn't date closet cases."

"Sounds like an insensitive jerk."

"He was really attractive," George insists. "And I really liked him. A lot. And I can't not be a closet case because I have a very, very Catholic family."

"So why am I here?"

"I told you," George says. "I'm _Catholic_. I'm good with guilt."

He steps forward into Alex's personal space and grips the front of his shirt. "The money is on the table," he says. "Count it if you'd like. And then just—can you just fuck me again?"

What Alex wants to do is shrug and say, "It's your money," but he's better at his job than that.

"Of course I can," he says, and runs the fingers of one hand down George's arm to distract him from the fact that Alex is picking up the envelope with the other and flicking through it to count the cash.

George glances over anyway, then back up to Alex's face. "I really liked him," he says again, "and—and he has every right to not want to go back into the closet for me."

"Still sounds like he was harsh."

"Are you—I mean, do you—probably not without the money, but does anyone know that you—with guys? Or do you...I mean, outside of the money?"

"Sometimes," Alex admits, which is a little more truthful than he usually is with clients. "It's all fine. I tend to stick with girls when I'm off duty just for balance, since most of my clients are guys, but if you're asking if I actually like dudes, the answer's yes."

"And does anyone know?"

"My best friend. She knows about the whoring, too, so a blow job here or there is hardly a deal breaker."

"What about your family?"

"I...don't really see my family."

There's this look on George's face like he's about to say, "Lucky you," but thankfully for both of their sakes, he doesn't.

George nods instead, then leans up on his tip toes and presses his lips to Alex's.

"Can you—do you think we could try it face-to-face this time? I mean. I know it's not—I know. Just...that's how it would've been with him, I think. I think we would've done it face-to-face. I just want to see what I'm missing out on."

Alex nods. "If that's what you want. You could even fuck me, if you wanted."

George shakes his head. "Maybe next time. I just—just for now. I just want to know what it could've been like if it were real."

Thirty minutes later, George is curled up against Alex's side, making awful little noises that sound half like crying and half like rage, but Alex knows enough not to make a big deal out of it. Clients like George just get pissed when he does that.

"My dad and brothers like to go hunting," George says finally. "And I like to read. I like—I like romantic comedies. I like soft jazz and I like art. And people gave me so much shit when I was growing up for that, and called me gay and—and I like girls, I do, I _love_ women, so I fought it so hard that yeah, I like guys, too. But James—the guy from my class—he's amazing. He's smart and funny and he likes the same bands as I do, and I woke up one morning and realized that I'm stupid for him."

Alex doesn't say anything. George is working something out for himself and Alex knows when to keep his mouth shut.

"I just...I wish it didn't bother me so much that my family is so—"

"Very, very Catholic," Alex supplies. "Yeah, I know."

"It shouldn't bother me," George says. His voice sounds a little firmer now, a little more sure of what he's feeling. "It should— _I_ shouldn't let it stop me from being happy, right? I should go for it. If I lo—like him, then I should just...I should just ask him out and tell my parents and—that's what I should do, right?"

"I can't tell you that," Alex says as evenly as possible. "But if you 'lo—like' this guy, then it seems stupid not to at least try."

"You give good advice for a hooker," George says quietly.

"Yeah, well...you spend day in and day out with people coming to you because they're too afraid to go after what they really want, you gain a little perspective."

George sits up, grabbing his jeans off the floor and digging through the pockets until he finds his wallet. He opens it, pulls out a few bills, and hands them to Alex.

"I—I think I'm going to go for it," he says. "And I probably won't call you again. So uh, consider it a tip and a thank you."

Alex doesn't say, "You're welcome," because he's just not that kind of guy, but he does nudge George lightly on the shoulder.

Alex doesn't hear from George after that, so Alex hopes he worked things out with that guy. There are enough people on the planet miserable over someone they can't have to add a puppy dog like George to the pile.

***

Meredith isn't a client. She's not a friend, either, nor is she someone Alex even knows all that well. Meredith is, Alex thinks, what he would be if he weren't charging for it. She's quiet and serious until her third shot of tequila, and then she's loud and boisterous and all over the first guy she sees. The first time Alex came to this bar on a night off, that guy happened to be him. She was all over him and as soon as he checked to be sure she was sober enough to be consenting, they got the hell out of there and went back to her place. The one and only time they ever talked about it was the next morning, when she told him that she wasn't interested in knowing anything about him, or even really talking to him at all, but that the night before had been fun and if they ran into each other again, he should let her know so that they could do it again.

He's lost count of the number of times the two of them have had sex, but he always seems to end up in her bed on nights after he's gone to the clinic or when he's had a particularly sad client. It's not like Alex actually _cares_ about them or anything, it's just that sometimes he can't stop imagining what happened after he saw them. He wonders if they ever told their wives, or if June ever found a guy to take her virginity the right way, or how George's family might've reacted and if that was enough for his classmate. The problem with his job is that he only comes into the picture in the middle of the story; he doesn't get to see the set up and he always misses out on the ending, happy or otherwise. It's not investment in any of their lives, not really, it's just normal curiosity. Everyone wants to know how things turn out.

Meredith is good for nights like that. He's never asked because they really don't talk, but he gets the idea that she's fucking to forget, too, like he's not the only one carrying around the weight of other people's problems.

He likes Meredith, inasmuch as he can like anyone without saying more than ten words to them after being aware of their existence for more than a year. Their arrangement isn't that different from his job, even, when he thinks about it. He takes her mind off her problems, and in return, she takes his mind off of his. It's clean and simple as long as he doesn't think about the fact that one day, one of them is going to break and then it won't be anymore.

***

Alex goes back to the free clinic before they can call with his results. He's not really there for his tests, anyway, even though he's pretty serious about keeping on top of that. He doesn't care at the moment, though, not after Mark and George and fuck, even Meredith. He's tired of wanting what he can't have, tired of not having the balls to go for it, and tired of fucking to forget her face.

He walks through the clinic right up to her, and then takes Izzie's face in his hands.

"Alex, what are you—"

He closes his eyes as he presses his lips to her's, unable to bear seeing her reaction.

"Alex!" she hisses, and pushes at his chest.

"I'm sorry," Alex says, and then laughs. "No, you know what? I'm not. I'm not even fucking sorry."

"What the hell was—"

"Come on, Iz," he says, because it's obvious, that should be more than obvious.

Her jaw clenches and she shoves at his chest again before tugging him into the nearest empty exam room. "I'm married."

He cocks an eyebrow at her, because really? That's her biggest problem with this? Sure, Alex has a weird perspective on marriage and monogamy but if that's the best she can come up with, then she's even more naive than he gives her credit for.

"To a guy with a heart condition," he retorts, because he's not proud of it or anything, but he's more than aware of the fact that he can be and often is vindictive. "I mean, when was the last time you got laid? I'm not through med school yet but I am aware of the strain sex puts on—"

"That is none of your business," she says coldly.

"Other people's marriages and lack of sex lives are what pay my bills."

"Your test results came back fine," she says after a moment. "You should go now."

"Izzie—" he starts, and reaches out to put a hand on her arm. She knocks it away and glares at him.

"You may not understand love, and that's fine, I get it, because you're warped. But you don't have to get it, Alex. I am in love with my husband and we're happy together, sex or no sex. And if, God forbid, his heart should go before he gets the transplant, then he will die knowing that he was loved and that I was faithful. So you should go because you clearly can't respect that."

"I respect—"

"No, you don't. You don't respect me or my marriage at all."

"Because you respect me and my job so much?"

"I'm _married_ and you're _selling your body_."

"Your choice, my choice," he snaps. "You're right. I shouldn't have come here. I don't know what the hell I was thinking."

They're both red in the face when he storms out, muttering under his breath that he deserves better.

***

It takes an entire month before Alex tells Cristina what happened with Izzie. He's not good with talking about his feelings, even less so when they're negative, so the whole thing kind of festers and he fucks up with three clients before he finally decides to take some time off work. But after two weeks of not working, Alex is twitchy, angry, and in desperate need of a fuck. He's been with Meredith at least three times, but it's just not cutting it anymore and he's pretty sure that feeling is mutual.

He finally gives in an tells Cristina what's going on when she punches him on the arm one day in the middle of Call of Duty.

"Ow! What the hell, Yang?"

"You're being an asshole," she says evenly. "You deserved that."

"I'm not being a—"

"People are afraid of you. You're walking around like a giant wall of rage."

If it were anyone else, Alex would tell them to go fuck themselves. But it's Cristina, who keeps his secrets and doesn't judge him and, occasionally, is actually a pretty decent friend.

"Izzie," he says. "I kissed her."

"The self-righteous bitch with the broken-hearted husband?"

"The beautiful doctor who thinks I'm better than this," Alex counters. "But yeah."

"And?"

"And...she's married."

She rolls her eyes. " _That's_ what you've been so pissy about? Jesus Christ, Karev. Grow a pair."

"What?"

"You barely know her, and every time the two of you see each other, you spend the entire time fighting. Take it from someone who's had her share of relationships with men she can't stand. You'd never be happy."

"Probably."

"Stop whining and go get paid to fuck someone already. You've stopped showering me with gifts of bloody video games and that is not acceptable."

"You sound like a pimp. You know that, right?"

Her eyes light up in a way that Alex isn't entirely sure is a joke.

"No," he says. "I'm a self-sufficient whore, thank you very much."

"Fine," she huffs. "Just go do it already. The bisexual virgins of questionable sexual prowess of the world need you."

Alex chuckles and the room falls quiet until he admits, "I actually think you're right."

"I usually am."

And the thing is, she usually _is_.

***

Mark calls for an appointment a week after Alex puts himself back on the market and asks to meet at a bar instead of Mark's apartment. Alex considers saying no to that because he really doesn't like to be on the job out in public, but given the fact that Mark hires Alex to substitute in as a friend rather than to actually be a whore, he figures it can't hurt.

"We did it," Mark says, bursting out into a ridiculous grin and pushing an envelope into Alex's hands under the table as soon as he sits down.

"Who did what?" He doesn't count the cash because they're in public, but makes a mental note to go through it before they say goodnight.

"Lexie," Mark says, breathing her name like it's his air. "I told her that I was in love with her and we went out and I just—it's kind of awesome."

"That's great, man," Alex says. "I'm happy for you."

"You know," Mark says thoughtfully, "I think you really are."

"Well, sure, dude. Love's a beautiful thing and all that."

"Now _that_ sounds like bullshit."

Alex shrugs. "Did you seriously hire me just to tell me about things working out with your student?"

"Believe it or not, you actually helped me last time. I figured...I don't know, I'd buy you a beer and say thanks."

Alex stares at him. "I'm not exactly the kind of person who gets bought beer and thanked."

"You should be, though," Mark says seriously. "You're good at what you do. I don't know if it was all bullshit last time or if you actually meant any of what you said, but it helped. My best friend still won't talk to me and somehow or other, that makes you the closest thing I've got to a friend."

"You—you do know that I'm not..."

"I'm aware, which is more than a little sad. Told you I was the most pathetic trick you've ever had. Now have a drink with me so I can talk about how awesome my hot new girlfriend is."

Alex sighs. "Fine. Corona."

Mark waves a waitress over and passes that on.

"Now. Tell me why you look even more pathetic than I feel."

Alex snorts. "Insulting me costs extra. Gotta buy myself something shiny to rebuild the self-esteem after something like that."

"I'm serious, man. You don't look happy."

The waitress sets Alex's beer down in front of him and he tips it at Mark in thanks before taking a drink.

"Telling me I'm bad at my job doesn't exactly make me feel awesome, either."

Mark makes a face. "Fine. You don't talk personal stuff with clients."

"No, I don't."

Mark stares at him for a moment, then bursts out, "Lexie is the smartest fucking girl, I swear, she's better than half the people I know in med school and she's still an undergrad. And she told me she actually likes _me_ , not just the whole hot for teacher thing and I just—you won't say a word about this to anyone, right?"

"Whore-client confidentiality."

Mark nods, then says quietly, "I'm not saying I'm in love with her or anything, because we haven't been out that many times, but she's the kind of girl who you meet and instantly start planning a future with because you can't imagine her not being in it."

Alex waits for the punchline, or for the other shoe to drop, but Mark is so _serious_ that it doesn't take long before he realizes that that isn't going to happen. Mark actually believes this. He genuinely believes that Lexie is going to be the end of his story.

Alex doesn't get to see the end of his clients' stories...well, ever. He's the middle man, the guy in between the sappy romantic beginning and the bitter, brutal end. He's a buffer, a way to ease in and out of whatever terrible thing pulls apart people who thought they were soul mates. Hell, sometimes he _is_ that terrible thing.

But Mark seems convinced that Lexie is it, that he's somehow magically gotten to skip over that middle part and she's going to be his happy ending. Alex doesn't know if that's true or not, doesn't even know if he believes happy endings exist, but what he does know is that he never, not for one second, felt that way about Izzie. Of all the twisted, complicated, unfathomable things he has felt about her, an unshakable belief that she was it has never been one of them.

That has to mean something. He'll figure out the specifics later, when Mark isn't sitting across the table from him, grinning like an idiot and going on and on about how great his new girlfriend is.

For now, Alex just accepts the fact that his story is still a work in progress.

**Author's Note:**

> All blame for this goes to Rachael (the Meredith to my Cristina) for not only making me watch the entire series in a matter of weeks, but for reading over this as it was written and promising me that it wasn't awful.
> 
> I'm considering writing timestamp scenes in this universe from the POV of each of the characters included here (i.e. April finally losing her virginity to Jackson, George coming out to his parents and/or going on his first date with James, or Mark and Lexie's conversation when he finally asks her out at the end of the semester), but doubt whether or not there'd be any interest. If there is, please let me know, as I'm kind of in love with this thing of my own creation in an entirely narcissistic way.
> 
> Finally, every fandom needs a rentboy!AU. It's a rule or something.


End file.
